As a teenager, it can be very difficult to find places where you feel completely safe, welcome, loved, and at peace.
Even as an adult it is very difficult to find these places.
Where do you go to find contentment?
Is it in nature?
With some friends?
As an employee of the church, one thing that you want is for people to feel that the church can be that place too.
Church is and should be more than a place you go to worship once a week. It should be a place you go to feel safe.
A place you are loved and welcomed.
A place you feel at home.
Recently one of our youth, Max, wrote an essay for a college application answering the question of "A place that you are content".
Here is what he wrote.
Reclining in
one of the several hundred mahogany chairs, I stare forward at the lengthy
chancel and the extravagant sanctuary. The whole church is whispered
conversations and relaxed postures, those in need of prayer filing off into the
transepts. Praise songs and hymns are fingerpicked on acoustic guitars. The
priest surveys the nave from his or her chosen position with a quiet
countenance and a subtle smile. My fellows walk about the church in silence,
the music echoing about the cavernous space providing enough sonic stimulation
for anyone to converse in quiet tones without being heard. My gaze may shift
when someone passes, but I stare off into myself as much as I can. I know no
one will accost or speak to me. I indulge thoughts of my world, rethinking my
recent observations and actions, hoping to assemble some phrase or fragment,
one I can repeat in my head to make sense of some personal trouble. I am
content in the midst of a large congregation of friends, allowed to sit alone
and think with a clarity unattainable when conforming to the script of social
interaction.
This place is
All Saints Chapel of Sewanee, the University of the South.
Through
Episcopal youth programs I attend a small service at All Saints twice a year.
The congregation is consistent. Most of the same youth participate in the
summer and in the winter sessions. The services always include a time for
individual prayer and meditation. My fellows sit in thought, converse in
whispers, walk the aisles of the beautiful church or kneel out of reverence to
the triune deity. I utilize this period for personal reflection. I cherish the
ability to be among so many people who I communicate with so often, and say
nothing to them, exchange no ideas. Left to myself, I revert to an meditative
state of mind in which I can analyze my universe with ease. I find the
situation unique, the time precious, the experience transcendent.
Many of my
peers ponder their relationship with the Lord, but I use the time to think in
complete serenity. I find the halls and rituals of a peaceful religion
pleasant, providing spaces of quietude and a sense of deep safety.
Episcopalians rarely vocalize dogmas. They are accepting and maintain a healthy
atmosphere of peace. The Episcopal church provides me with the opportunity to
hear true silence and to feel true comfort. This culture of
acceptance,tolerance, and serenity has become a major part of my identity over
the last four years. Of the many experiences I gain through this community, the
collective hour of each year in which I sit and stare into myself there is
untouchable and magical. All Saints is a space in which I feel the subliminal,
naked purity of my existence. The encroaching darkness, mellifluous acoustics,
welcoming candlelight, sacred geometry, and Anglican architecture constitute an
environment where my being truly belongs.
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